


Choice

by dinoburger



Series: CC lore nobody asked for [2]
Category: LISA (Video Games)
Genre: Adopted Children, Family Drama, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mutilation, Other, Pre-Apocalypse, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 12:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinoburger/pseuds/dinoburger
Summary: Columbo comes back to town and presents Bradley with a choice of sorts.Chris ends up getting more than he bargained for, and Dusty comes along for the ride.(this is a Chris + Dusty focussed fic, forbidden uncle hours real)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is sort of a sequel to State of Absence but I wouldn't call it required reading, you can probably get the gist of things. Pre-flash nonsense.
> 
> The warning is mostly for Dustin's face having been sawn off at this point, I don't think it's too intensely graphic but just in case.

Dustin couldn't recognise it as his face. There was scarcely anything left, a cacophony of wounds feebly held together with stitches and gauze. 

Although it moved when he willed it to, and surely enough, he could no longer feel things that were supposed to be there. His nose for example. He felt the air blow raw through the holes where his nose had been.

Even so, it didn’t stick, he couldn't process it. He couldn't process that he'd never see his own face in one piece again. It stung his chest to think it.

He'd never felt more fragile, and that was the last thing he wanted. It was being too fragile that landed him here to start with.

Rick helped him change the bandages. He tried to be reassuring but not even Rick could pull that off. There was the tremor of tears in his voice that slipped through.

Sticky held him and wept. The man could hardly manage to do anything but cry and cry.

Cheeks tried to offer some words of comfort. They failed to really have any meaning to them, any depth, they were flimsy.

And Brad, Brad was cold.

It was Dusty's own fault for not being strong enough, he'd failed.

He heard Rick arguing at them a few times in the evenings, from where he lay in the back of the dojo. Rick’s voice was high and hysterical, breaking with the sheer force behind it. Dusty didn't hear much from Brad but they spoke with a low snarl.

Dusty cried, because he knew this was his fault too. He didn't just make Brad hate him, he'd made them hate each other.

All because of that.

Dustin himself couldn't picture it all too clearly. The worst part was the buzzing, the buzzing that shook his bones and roared wet and visceral as it shredded his flesh.

Noises scared him, ones that hadn't before. Anything too loud, anything that reminded him of that buzzing made him cower and shake and wail.

He was so fragile, even a mere sound felt like it would make him fall apart.

But when they were alone, and there was nothing but that cold quiet, it was almost as piercing. When it was only him and Brad, with that hard, unforgiving expression as they treated his wounds like they’d been instructed. All in silence.

Dustin wanted to cry and beg for forgiveness, but he couldn’t. He was terrified it would shatter around him, that thick, icy tension.

So they continued on, in cold silence.

* * *

He spotted him from across the field, swathed in the early evening dim, where Chris’d been making his way towards the dojo. Columbo slowed and stopped dead in his tracks as the figure came into view, making out all the gruesome details as it came into focus.

He’d never seen an injury like it in his life, it took away any familiarity he’d had from the scene. It took him a long while to connect it with anything else, the soft blond hair, the smaller yet muscular figure.

“...Dustin?” Chris called tentatively.

Then they were face to face. Dustin’s bright blue eyes were alert in a profile that had been hacked to pieces, the flesh in disrepair. 

Chris removed his sunglasses with a soft clicking of hinges, as if somehow that would change what he was seeing. 

It was the first time Dustin had ever seen his face fully exposed, Columbo’s gaping expression uncomfortably intense, his sunken eyes a stormy grey-blue and lined with stress.

“U-uncle Chris…” that weak little voice was unmistakable.

“What hast become of you…?” Columbo asked, just as weakly, before his expression hardened. “Did Brad…?”

Dusty shook his head hastily. “It-it was a-another b-b-boy in my k-karate class…”

“Another boy did this?” he echoed, disbelieving.

“H-he… h-h-had a b-b-b...buzzs-saw.”

Chris shuddered.

“A lot hap-happened since you’ve b-been gone…”

Chris’s brows knitted together and his gaze dropped, replacing his sunglasses. “Actually, I was… intending to depart from town altogether. I thought I would bid my farewells.”

“Oh.” Dusty tried not to sound too crestfallen. “W-where are you g-g-going?”

“Away from people, I suppose. Out into the yonder.” he gestured outwards.

“I...I h-hope you have a s-s-safe trip.”

Columbo observed and thought it through. “...Come with me.”

“H-huh?”

“I can take you along.”

Dustin’s eyes darted back and forth. “B-b-but… am, am I a-allowed?”

A devilish smile curled at Chris’s lips. “Does it matter? We could always ask dear Bradley first, if you so wish.”

“I-I don’t know… h-he, he d-d-doesn’t t-t-talk to me…n-not anym-more.”

His nose wrinkled and his grin soured. “That worthless motherfucker.”

Chris was one of the few adults who never bothered to censor himself around Dusty, and he couldn’t help the guilty little smile on his mutilated lips at the phrase.

“I’ll have to have words with him.” he cracked his knuckles. “It’s about time for a little reunion, do you not think?”

“Uhm…”

“Nothing for you to fret about, I shalt have it sorted. That is, if you’re on board.”

Dusty considered the offer. He thought about how things had been with Brad, with his uncles.

Then he nodded.

* * *

Chris met with him again a few evenings later, bathed in deep blue so that there was only the scarcest outlines defining his form.

They’d arranged to meet outside the dojo. Columbo wasn’t alone this time either, the shadows of three other men following him. He pressed a finger to his lips, leading the five of them inside, through the main training area and into the back.

There was some hushed bickering as they fit themselves around the much smaller space, settling into positions with two against the counter, one sitting down on the floor, another finding a small stool or perhaps a piece of miscellaneous equipment to sit on.

Dustin was just there, in the middle of it all. When they’d stilled, things became very quiet, each of them breathing shallow and silent.

“...You think he’ll be long?” a hushed voice asked.

“Later than this? I can’t imagine so.” that was Chris.

Another pause. Listening, waiting.

“It’s been so long since we did anything fun like this.” snickered a voice from the floor.

“I am looking forward to seeing his face…” a more nasally voice sneered.

Chris hushed them. Faintly, he could pick out the sounds of someone fumbling with the door.

Clunking open, swinging. Pause. Steps on the creaking floorboards, moving down through the dojo. The four men and Dustin listened in the dark as those sounds approached.

At last, Brad’s silhouette entered the doorway, and they reached for the switch on the side of the wall. There was a split second delay between the snap of the lightswitch and the flickering of the lights.

They were surrounded. Two on either side of the doorway. A room full of sneering faces and their own son.

“Howdy. You disgraceful creature.”

A frown tugged down at Brad’s lips as it was truly dawning on them their situation. “You, you… what’s this about?” 

“Relax Bradley, can a few old friends not stop in for a visit?”

Brad looked between the four men, and then their son.

“Go sit down on the couch. Let’s have a chat.” Chris ushered him further into the back and Brad complied, feeling the gaze of everyone on them.

They were only cornering themselves more. 

“All good things must come to an end...”

Brad groaned and fell heavily onto the couch. Dustin hovered in the doorway.

“...Not happy to see me? You didn’t miss me too terribly, did you?” Chris teased.

Brad looked up at him from under the deep shadows of his eyes and stormy black cloud of fluffy hair, head hung slightly. It seemed like they were barely propping up the weight of their own body.

“Not that it matters. I did not intend to stay, in fact I was just on my way out of town when I decided perhaps I should say my goodbyes… and that perhaps you would let me take something as a parting gift.” Chris rocked back to lean his torso down, closer to Brad’s level. “Maybe you would let me cut off that pretty black beard of yours. Or keep a few of your clothes, or your pills, whatever you have left that is.” he remarked.

“Or…” Chris straightened again. “That boy of yours. What do you say?”

“I…” they started hopelessly, their expression lined and heavy, broken and defeated. “I don’t care.”

Chris’s eyebrows raised from behind his sunglasses. “Really? You’ll let me take what I want?” his moustache twitched into a smile. “Even your son?” 

“Fffff…fine.” Brad’s head fell, and Chris beamed like a kid at Christmas.

“How generous, I’m moved. Since you’re in such a giving mood, you won’t have a problem with us tying you to the couch as a precautionary measure, will you?”

Brad shrugged, grunting impassively.

“What a good boy you are.” Chris praised, gesturing for his men to come in and watching them make quick work of fastening Brad’s wrists to the arm of the couch, grumbling in discomfort as they were handled roughly but otherwise unresistant.

When they were finished, he admired the sight. 

“One last thing, before we depart… Dustin? Would you like to say goodbye?”

Cautiously, Dusty entered, Brad looking up just enough to see him.

Dustin’s eyes somehow looked both wider and smaller in the gouged, reddened pits they resided, anxious. There was a wash of silence as the two shared one last look. 

“G-g-good… goodbye m… m…” he struggled, then stopped. 

Then he smiled.

“S-see ya, dad.”

Chris let Dusty take what he needed from the dojo while Chris went about taking some things he didn’t. Namely, a few of Brad’s shirts.

He realised he didn’t have enough time to cut off Brad’s beard but he was satisfied with taking a lock of the man’s hair, smacking a taunting kiss to their forehead after doing so.

Brad gave him a baffled look but said nothing.

“How many floral shirts does a man need anyway?” Chris scoffed, throwing one around Dusty’s shoulders as they worked their way back with the other gents.

Dustin giggled. 

This was so wrong. But then again, staying would only make things worse. So how bad was it really?

They were out in the open again.

“We should go off in different directions…”

“Chris, hang on, where are you taking him? We’ll meet back up with you there later.”

“It was… it…” the dark shape of Columbo drew in a breath. “You remember my uncle’s place, way out? We used to hang out there as young boys.”

“Oh, alright. I’ll get in touch with you soon.”

“Okay.” 

They split off, shapes disappearing into the night. 

“...You ever been on a motorbike ride before, Dustin?”

* * *

Chris played everything over in his head as they sped off into the night. He wasn’t expecting it to be that easy, Brad didn’t push back, didn’t plead or threaten or try to negotiate with him.

The scenario he’d been anticipating was much more emotionally fraught. He’d imagined them getting angry, desperate, swearing to hurt him or begging for him to stop. He wanted to see if Brad would’ve bargained with him.

He couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

They broke off from the main road, trees on either side flitting past. Down into the dark wilderness.

When they stopped, Dustin could only make out the shape of the cottage against the patches of sky peering through.

He could hear the clattering of Columbo’s keys, letting Dusty in and hitting the lights. 

“Take whichever room you desire.” he said tiredly.

More space here, a whole room to himself, and a proper bed. It’d been a while since he’d slept in a bed. Dustin marvelled at the place.

Chris shed his jacket, threw aside his keys and braced himself against an armchair. 

Child abduction was a new one on him. It felt more like pinching a neglected animal off someone’s porch than that.

Not that this had been his original plan.

Dustin was spread out on the bed when he’d gone to check in on him, contented and comfortable.

“...You’re alright then?”

Dustin peeked over the thick blankets he’d buried his face into. “Uh-huh.” 

“It would be wise to rest soon, I should think.” Columbo suggested. 

“Okay, goodnight uncle…” 

“...Goodnight Dustin.”

When Chris left, he pulled the floral shirt that he’d still been wearing around him, before crawling under the sheets. Everything here was unfamiliar but that item, it smelled more like home. He slept without taking it off.

Columbo kept the other shirt he’d taken from Brad with him the whole night too. 

* * *

Brad sat there in the dark, tied down to the back room couch for a good while, scarcely comprehending what had happened. It was hard to completely nod off with their wrists bound.

They knew it’d be trouble if anyone found them like this, and they’d have to explain the situation. They weren’t ready to. 

Plus, they’d need to get up and pee sometime.

Brad had no idea how long it took to wriggle free, they stopped and started intermittently every few minutes or so, half considering just giving up and letting whatever’d happen, happen. But eventually, the bonds loosened.

Maybe a better man would call the police.

Brad just rolled over and curled up on their side, hoping that by the time they woke it would all be dealt with.


	2. Chapter 2

The place was secluded and peaceful. Chris would take Dustin on walks through the surrounding area, there were deer nearby they’d glimpse between the trees. They’d climb up through the rocks and way up onto cliffs.

Columbo was calmer too with nobody around to antagonize. He’d offer a steady hand as they crossed uneven ground.

That first day they made their way, way up, through twisting trails of rocks and trees, giving them a good view of the Olathian horizon as they rested.

“...How art thou feeling?” Chris started.

“Uh… Al-alright.”

“It’s okay if you’re mad at him. I would be.”

Dustin shook his head. “I-I-I’m not.”

The boy retreated back into the shirt, pulling his head down to cover his raw, vulnerable face from the harsh environment.

Columbo frowned and tilted his head. “Does it still hurt?”

“Mh… i-i-it’s not c-comfortable, th-that’s for s-s-sure.” he admitted.

Chris slipped off his sunglasses. “Here.” When Dustin looked up, he delicately set them onto his face. “It isn’t much, but it’s some protection. I’ll find you something better.”

“Th-thanks…” he could already feel them slipping down his lack-of-a-nose.

Chris hummed, his gaze wandering out over the landscape. “I did not anticipate things to go this way. You know this trip was supposed to be a secret.”

“S...secret?”

The look scrawled on his face was almost guilty as Chris's eyes flitted from Dusty back to the scenery. “Yes.”

“W-why?”

He licked his lips. “I… wasn't sure that I'd want to come back. The gents are doing so much better without me… I didn't mean to rope them into this.”

“O-oh…” Dusty leaned into Columbo's side. “W-well… th-that's okay… I think Br-Brad will be b-b-better off without me too…”

“Unneeded and unwanted…” Chris carefully put his arm around him. “I quite like that.”

Dustin nestled there for a moment, Columbo allowing him, before glancing back over his shoulder.

“We should head back.”

“O-okay.”

* * *

There’s an actual, proper kitchen in the cottage, and the following morning it’s filled with the smell of pancakes cooking. Chris’s skills were a little lacking, and they ended up slightly burnt on the underside, but otherwise the pancakes tasted pretty good to Dustin.

The next time they ventured into the wilderness, Chris unearthed a wide-brimmed straw hat to keep Dustin somewhat more protected from the elements.

Columbo eased himself down amongst the greenery while Dustin carefully offered a couple apple slices to the local deer, wanting to take a closer look. There was supposedly one Chris had dubbed ‘Macaroni’, which he declared ‘the friendliest one’.

Dustin couldn’t tell the difference, they all just looked like deer to him.

Chris clipped the arm of his sunglasses into the collar of his shirt and flipped open a blank page of the spiral sketch book he’d carried out with him, now with a clear view to observe his subjects.

When his curiosity got the better of him, Dustin tip-toed over to peer at Chris’s work.

He’d never really known any artists, although Brad was a  _ martial _ artist. The visual kind was an art Dusty had far less experience with.

The subjects of his work moved constantly, so Columbo’s sketches moved with them, quick and fluid. The impressions of the shapes of deer, shifting across the page, unravelling in fragments as he coordinated his hands and eyes. Mesmerising to watch.

Tapping his pencil, Chris decisively flipped the sketchbook over to fill another page with quick studies.

He finished by flipping the cover back into position, grunting and dusting off the bits of leaves and dirt and twigs that’d stuck to him in the meantime.

* * *

The sketchbook was out again later that afternoon, with Chris doodling at the living room table. Chris’s bared face met Dusty’s curious gaze this time, with raised eyebrows. 

“...Care to join me?” he invited.

“I-I’m not v-very g-g-good at drawing…”

“‘Good’ is subjective.” Chris pushed back from his chair with a flourish. “Art exists for the sake of itself. Let me find you some paper… and maybe some other things. I’d like a few colours.”

There’s a cozy little study room, or an office of some sort, plenty of drawers and places to investigate for drawing utensils. The two of them poking around the carpeted room was like a small adventure in itself, digging up pencils, pens, texters, crayons, whatever else they could find.

Chris took all their findings in a pile along with an aged notepad to test them out, one after the other, caps clicking and buttons pressed to see whether or not the ink had run dry.

“Works, nope, nope, works, sort of… nope.” Click, scratch and skitter, as Columbo haphazardly chucked the non-functional pens over the desk’s surface, setting aside the others.

After a moment, he paused, running the flat of his hand over the polished wood. A fond little smile touched his stormy eyes.

“Dustin, you want to see something? I think it was this one…”

“H-huh?”

“Crawl under this desk and look up, tell me if you see anything.”

Doing as asked, Dustin wriggled underneath, shuffling onto his back. He blinked as he adjusted to the dark.

“I-I th-think there’s s-s-something scratched in here...n-names.”

Etched into the wood on the bottom, crude and heavy handed were the initials ‘CC’, with a big skull and crossbones next to it. He could make out other scratch marks that seemed random at first but as he got used to the dark he could read a few more names: ‘Sergei’, ‘TOM’, ‘LArrY’, all scattered around. 

And lastly, at the lower edge, ‘THe GeNTs’ was carved, surrounded by several more skulls.

“I made sure to mark every other place with my initials. Then I got the gents in on it.” he explained as Dustin emerged. “I don’t think my uncle every found that one out, either than or he didn’t bother to scold us for it.”

“Wh-where’s your un-uncle now?”

“Prison.”

“O-oh… why?”

Chris shook his head and shrugged. “My parents never told me. They never let me see him again.” his troubled expression wandered toward the window.

Columbo let a short breath out, getting right back to it. “Anyway, I found some paper you can use, so we’re all set.”

They took opposite sides of the living room table with their found goods in between.

Dustin found himself getting quickly frustrated by whatever he put down onto the sheet. Ugly, misshapen marks. He scratched it all out and reached for a different colour.

Red, thick red lines. Like wounds, each one he bore out. Face so bare it might as well be a bloody skull with deep hollowed out eyes, gory holes instead of a nose and flesh carved deep.

Chris on the other hand, picked out a pinkish pencil to colour the shirts of a little cartoonish character he’d been drawing.

The movement caught Dustin’s attention.

“C-can I s-s-see?”

“Hold on - alright.” Chris held the sketch book vertical so the figures would be easier to see: a little bear character with dark fluffy hair and a floral shirt, and a deer donning sunglasses and a leather jacket.

“A-ah, I li-like those!”

“The deer is myself… as an anthropomorphic character.”

“l-like...a f-f-furry?”

“Yeah.”

It did in fact, somewhat resemble Chris with his signature look. The bear was somewhat familiar too. They were holding hands.

He didn’t have much longer to study it as the sketchbook was set down.

“What hath thou created then?”

“Uhm… it’s k-k-kind of y-yucky…” Dustin meekly pushed the marred paper over to Columbo.

Dustin nervously waited as those grey eyes scanned the page. “Oh… awesome.”

“Y-you th-th-think?”

“Yeah. The red skulls are really cool.”

“Th...thank you…” he couldn’t help being pleased by the unexpected praise.

“...The beauty of art is not necessarily in making something perfect or pretty, but it being a true expression of one’s self. An exploration of thine inner world, that may prove too painful otherwise.” Chris delicately handed back the paper. “There’s no shame in hurting.”

Dustin noticed how one of Chris’s hands absently rubbed his other wrist. He’d glimpsed Chris’s scars before, multitudes of them, some pale and faded, others thick and purple-pink.

So many in the same place, it could only have been deliberate. He realised by looking at himself too. He didn’t quite understand.

When he noticed himself doing it Chris withdrew and folded them together to obscure the damage, this look of guilt flashing across his face.

“I… believe I should get dinner started soon. But I’d like to see more of your skulls, if ever you do more.”

* * *

Aside from drawing, Dusty practiced his martial arts diligently. This is what kept him focussed, his whole body occupied.

Chris would come out to watch him from time to time. 

Dusty hadn’t even seen him standing back behind that day.

Dustin steadied himself, drew his hands together, gathering energy. A warm light burst between his palms and he launched it into the open air, sailing away and dispersing into nothing.

“Whoah…”

Dustin whipped around, Chris gaped at him.

“I do not think I’ve seen you do that one before.”

“It, uhm, i-it’s tricky, I-I w-w-wouldn’t want to m-mess it up and, and have you get hurt…” Dustin shrunk back. “B-but, I th-think I’m g-getting better at it.”

Chris moved from his spot by the trees to stand beside him, hands in his pockets, gaze wandering out to that space where the fireball had self-extinguished.

“...Would it be possible for you to teach me?”

“U-uhm… y-you wanna try it?” Dustin chewed his scarred lip. “I-I don’t think I’m as good at t-t-teaching things as m-master Armstrong but, but m-maybe. Y-you need to know how to do other stuff f-fffirst, a-and even then… it d-doesn’t work for ev-everyone…”

Columbo nodded, accepting. “That’s fine. The opportunity itself would be more than sufficient.”

“...huh?”

“What I mean is yeah, let’s do it.”

* * *

Finding the words for everything he had been taught was difficult, Dustin could already tell he wasn’t explaining the technique how Brad had. He relied on muscle memory, from all the guidance he’d been given already, to keep his skills fine tuned.

He would often stumble, forget parts, and have to redo his sentences as the lessons came back in fragments. Chris was remarkably patient through all this.

It was something for them both to work on. Even as Dustin backtracked, correcting both himself and whatever he’d gotten Chris to do, even as he doubted himself with little comments of “th-that doesn’t look right…”

“I don’t… I-I don’t th-think Brad would be happy if they knew I was doing this…” he confessed.

“Why is it any bother? They show no concern for you, so why should you care for their feelings?” Chris dismissed.

The scarred skin at the edges of Dusty’s mouth pulled down. “There’s...there’s a r-reason for that… o-one day I’ll be stronger, then, m-m-maybe they’ll f-f-forgive me…”

“If they didn’t believe you were strong enough then, perhaps they never will.”

That cut through him like a knife.

Dustin crumpled in on himself, his small, strained voice barely squeezing from his throat. “Y-you’re r… right… I’ll… al-alwaysss b-b-be w-weak and, and use-useless…” he gurgled. “Y-you sh-sh-shouldn’t be t-trying to l-l-learn anything fr-from me…!”

“That isn’t what I meant…” Chris softened down. “I just believe it’s possible that Brad will always find fault with you, regardless of whether you’ve done anything wrong. In that respect you may never be ‘good enough’ for their liking.” he explained quietly.

Not really comforted by the sentiment but no less calming down, Dustin sniffled.

“We can try again later.”

Dusty nodded.

* * *

An early evening chill seeped into the cottage, growing deeper and dimmer, but not enough yet to warrant turning on the lights. Dustin huddled himself up in Brad’s shirt on the old armchair.

He’d been uncharacteristically sullen all afternoon. Chris took the time to do some chores, dropping by one of the closer little villages to pick up more supplies, using what money he’d saved. There wasn’t too much left.

But the week wasn’t to last much longer either, and the gents would be there sometime soon.

When Columbo arrived back at the cottage, having finished up his errands, he sat in the armchair adjacent, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and face bare.

He had a cold, sad truth to confront, between the two of them. Reassurance was worth the price of being exposed, of being vulnerable in that moment, especially when Dustin himself was still so raw and so hurt.

“This is all Bradley’s fault, not yours. I hope you understand that.”

Dustin didn’t say anything, nor look toward him. His little blue eyes were turned down and inward.

“You don’t have to suffer for their sake, they should be the one suffering for yours. They were supposed to look after you.”

Dustin shifted and pulled the shirt tighter around himself, hiding the lower part of his face.

Chris hadn’t moved at all, set on Dustin. “I can make them suffer.”

That made the boy start, as soon as he registered it. He studied Chris, trying to figure out if there was more to it. His dark blue eyes were hazy and sunken, the inexpressive look being directed at him made Dustin almost shudder with unease.

The threat was so casual.

“I’ve made thy father hurt before. In all sorts of ways.” he went on calmly. “I was certain that this would sate my desire for revenge, however… After understanding how deeply his treatment hath affected you I’m no longer so sure.”

“I-I d-d-don’t w-want you to.” Dustin uttered. “R-revenge is s-s-stupid.”

Columbo squinted. “You think you’re better than me?” he snapped.

It was the same uneasiness that had stirred in him when he’d seen Columbo hanging around the dojo late at night, when Dustin had never seen him before. A stranger in his home, unreadable, unknown. 

He’d come to think of him more like his other uncles, adjusting to his presence, but how much did he really know about this man? This dark, dangerous presence he had.

Columbo’s eyes widened after processing his own little outburst, and he withdrew, embarrassed. “Nevermind. I’ll leave it be.”

He stood up and left Dustin there to dwell on the interaction.

* * *

It happened all at once one day. A crackle of energy ignited between Chris’s gloved palms when they were practicing.

“Th-that’s it!” Dustin exclaimed.

The weak, quivering flame sputtered and threatened to put itself out as Columbo held it in front of him, the light dancing across his sunglasses.

Like a gas stove catching the flame burst outward into a much bigger fireball, spitting angrily as it engulfed his hands and made Chris hiss through his teeth.

Dustin couldn’t get close, with all the sparks flying off it and the sheer heat. “Qu-quick, launch it!”

Chris thrust his hands forward, the fireball making a short, heavy arc directly into the ground, resulting in a smoking, ashy crater.

Chris shook out his hot hands, gasping and hopping up and down.

“S-sorry, I w-wasn’t expecting that!” Dustin worried. “I d-don’t think it’s sup-p-posed to be painful…”

“Nor was I,” Chris laughed. “But you did it, you taught me something new!”

“I...I did, d-didn’t I…” in spite of everything, Dustin was pleased with himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one :P

Richard had a dark scowl etched into his face as he strode down the footpath, Sticky trailing along behind.

“What’s the news? How’s Dusty going?” he asked.

“Oh, he’s not there.” Rick muttered. “Brad says a partner of his is looking after him for the moment.”

“...That sounds ominous. You buy that?”

Richard sighed, letting some of the tension go. “I don’t know why he’d lie about something like that, he’s not a good liar to start with. You know Brad…”

“Who is this partner anyway?” Sticky pressed.

“I… I didn’t pry. If Brad trusts them, then I’m sure it’s just fine.”

“Rick… seriously? This whole thing sounds shady as shit to me.”

“I can’t be spending every moment trying to figure out Brad’s life for him, he’s made these decisions, he can stick by them.”

“What about Dusty? He’s going to be hurt the most by this.”

“I can’t imagine it’d be any worse than what Brad was already putting him through.”

“You can’t just abandon them out of spite…”

“Why don’t you help them then.” Rick spat. “I’m at my limit, Sticky. I don’t want to do this, I have enough to worry about as it is.”

* * *

Being scolded and interrogated by his friends was becoming a tiring routine.

At least Sticky didn't stand over Brad the way Rick did. He was already impatient, breathing a sigh through his moustache after having marched into the dojo.

“I already talked to Rick about this.” Brad stated stubbornly.

“You didn't give a single clear answer!” Sticky folded his arms. “I still don't know where Dustin is, or if he's even still - I don't know - alive!”

“He is. He's with someone else.” Brad evaded.

“Oh right, this mysterious person we have no idea about. Like that's much less worrying.” Sticky was getting restless on his feet.

“It's...fine.”

“Brad, can you tell me for sure that you know where he is?”

Brad shrugged his shoulders and turned his head away. When he didn't give an answer Sticky pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated.

“Jesus.” he sighed again. "I'm starting to see why Rick gave up talking to you.” 

“But I'm not like Rick, he has his own life to worry about, a job, all that shit. He can't spend all day chiding you.” he chuckled joylessly. “But me? You know I'm more like you. Nobody's waiting on me, so I can stay here, and stand around in this dojo until I get to the bottom of this mess.”

Brad lowered his head.

“So this person who's whisked Dusty away to some godforsaken place, Rick said you mentioned she was like, a girlfriend?”

“Partner… my partner, for a while…” he corrected quietly.

“That's what I thought, you must trust her a lot, right? If you'd let Dustin stay with her.”

Brad couldn't stop himself wincing.

“...What? Am I on the wrong track here?”

He scrunched up his nose in a look of pain and reluctance and shook his head.

Sticky glanced at the dojo floor thoughtfully. "I can't even remember the last time I saw you with someone. Rick brought up a ‘Chris’ once, but I'm not sure I know any, except, well…”

Brad tensed, grimacing.

“Columbo. But that doesn't seem…”

Brad muttered something akin to an excuse and tried to sidestep around Sticky who grabbed his shirt.

“Where are you going?!”

“Bathroom.”

“...Brad, seriously. I know there's one in the back.”

Exasperated, Sticky turned him around and walked him in the other direction, further from the exit. Brad let himself be sheparded.

“You're not escaping that easily, you can use that one if you're desperate… ah, I've lost my train of thought.”

Brad briefly considered trying to climb out through the window.

“...Brad.” Sticky let go of him.

There was a rattle, as Sticky moved to investigate the small bottle that'd been forgotten on the break room counter. He recognised the ‘Angoneli’ prescription.

“You… I thought we made you get rid of all these.”

Brad couldn't look at him.

“You, no, you didn't… You have some sort of shady deal going on with Columbo. That awful run-in I had, you got him to do that.” Sticky pieced together. “...is that it?”

“It wasn't like that, I think, I don't know.” he fumbled. “I didn't ask him to.”

“Then what?” Sticky's brow creased, voice rising in confusion. “Why?!”

“We were… going out.” Brad confessed slowly. “...I let him in on some things I shouldn't have.”

“Going out…? Like. Dating?”

“Uh…”

“So...he has Dusty?” Sticky squeaked.

“Yes.”

Brad heard him set the bottle back down on the counter, then silence. When he turned back to him Sticky had crumpled down to the floor.

“I'm sorry.”

Sticky just shook his head. “I don't believe this.”

* * *

“...this is safe right?”

“I've seen those gent guys do it plenty of times, so yeah! Don't worry, it'll be like a rescue mission.”

“Yeah. I'm not going to stop until I find him, no matter what.”

“That's the spirit! You know I'd come with, but I have this work thing…”

“It's okay Cheeks, thanks. It's lucky you figured out one of the gents was working nearby…”

“Good luck on your mission!”

“I'll do my best.”


	4. Chapter 4

As they were returning from another walk into the wilderness, Chris pricked up at the sound of a large vehicle pulling up. He motioned for Dustin to keep quiet, taking him to a vantage point hidden by foliage.

He could make out a truck, grunting to a halt. Then voices.

They listened for a while, a smile breaking across Columbo’s face.

“Come on!”

Chris took his hand and they darted back through the leafy trail.

There were three men waiting for them, two pale with dark hair, and one with a tuft of blond tied up.

“My gents!” Chris laughed.

They turned, brightening at the sight of him.

“Chris!”

“Still dragging that little rando boy around with you?” chimed in a man with a bowl-cut and a pink nose.

“We thought you might’ve lost him out in the wild by now.” Tom chuckled.

Chris snorted indignantly. “Of course not, have some faith in me won’t you? He’s practically one of us!” Columbo put an arm around Dustin’s shoulders and grinned.

“Well, I for one am relieved to see the both of you made it in one piece.” Sergei adjusted his frames.

“I don’t know about making that rando kid a gent though.” Larry added again.

“Oh, but he hath taught me quite the interesting new trick, if anyone should need a light…” Columbo pulled his arm away to slip a cigarette from his pocket, clicking his fingers and manifesting a small flame in the other. “I can assist.” He lit up smugly, blowing a puff of smoke out through his nose.

“Whoah! Some trick!” Larry exclaimed.

“Wouldn’t be Bradley’s boy if he didn’t know a little of that stuff huh?” Tom remarked, impressed.

The attention was overwhelming, Dustin retreated into Columbo’s side as best he could.

“He’s not anymore, he’s ours.” Chris claimed proudly, pulling him in.

“Have you even told him the rules?” Sergei scoffed, smirking.

“R-r-r-rules?” Dustin echoed weakly.

Chris cleared his throat. “Naturally, one seeking to become a gent must behave accordingly…”

“Like a proper gentleman!” Larry crowed.

“Exactly.” Chris nodded. “One must always fight fair, treat others with decency.”

“No smoking.” Tom continued.

“Don’t do drugs!” Larry followed.

“Respect women.”

“And…”

“Do not have sex with Rick’s wife.” Sergei finished, to which the lot of them lost it and burst into fits of laughter.

Dustin frowned, but didn’t comment.

“Worry not dear boy, ‘tis nothing more than a bit of irony.” Chris wiped the amused tears from his eyes. “Now then, how hath my gents been? Were thine travels safe?”

Sergei stroked his chin. “Ah, quite fitting you should ask…”

“Oh yeah, should we tell him about-”

“Yes.”

Chris cocked his brow. “What’s this?”

A sinister smile curled at Sergei’s lips. “I thought you should see for yourself. It appears that on our journey here we picked up a stowaway.”

“He must’ve climbed in the back while we weren’t looking.” Tom explained.

The gents lead him to the back of the truck, moving out of the way to let Chris heave the great rolling door open, exposing the cluttered dark within. Dustin watched him climb up and into the truck.

Columbo pushed up his sunglasses for a moment to better adjust to the shade, peering into the back, where he finally made out a small figure. Their dark, beady eyes were transfixed, not daring to make a sound.

“Well well well… what do we have here?” a cruel grin broke Chris’s face and the unwelcome passenger just kept staring, helpless as they were scooped up and dragged roughly out into the light of day.

The smaller man didn’t bother putting up a fight, far far lighter than Columbo and knowing the larger’s strength from the ease he was carried. His head wilted forward in defeat.

Chris held him to the gents circled around, like bait to sharks.

"What do you think we should do with the little wretch?" Sergei snickered.

"S-st-sticky!" Dustin called.

As quiet as he was, Sticky snapped up at his voice. "Dustin…! Thank God, you're alive…" he breathed out in relief, temporarily distracted from his sticky situation.

Chris’s sadistic expression faltered.

"I… I came looking for you."

As Chris's face fell those of the gents followed. Sticky squawked as Columbo jumped down from the truck while still holding the smaller, landing heavy on his boots but keeping his balance.

Chris set him back on the ground, Sticky staggered and shot him a wary glance back over his shoulder before Dustin rushed forward to meet him, pulling him into a hug.

"Oh Dustin… are you alright? They didn't- they haven't done anything to you have they?" Sticky pulled back to examine him, and Dustin shook his head.

"I-I'm f-f-fine, r-really… me a-and Chris did a l-l-lot of f-fun stuff." he smiled reassuringly.

"I...guess that's good to hear." Sticky sounded uncertain.

Seeming to remember him standing there, Dustin straightened and looked over at Chris, protectively standing by his uncle.

"Y-y-you… you're n-not g-going to h-h-hurt him are you?"

They couldn't see how his eyes darted behind those dark frames. Between his gents, his nephew, Sticky.

"B-because… I w-won't l-let you. N-nobody h-h-has to h-h-hurt anym-more. I t-told you...I hate r-rev-venge."

Columbo's lips twitched, twisting, snarling. His fingers tensed and clenched tight.

"...fine." he spat.

The new grin Chris sported was much more forced, more like a dog bearing its teeth. He slapped Sticky across the back in what would otherwise be a friendly gesture and loomed over him.

“Let’s get ye fellows inside, shall we? Make our ‘guest’ nice and comfortable.” he almost growled.

“Okay.” Sticky wheezed, barely repressing his terror.

Being in the middle of a pack of rowdy gents was a new one on him. Sticky spent most of it sitting stock still, while the men around him passed around drinks and laughed and joked with one another. Being so uncomfortably close to Chris Columbo was surreal.

He was really in the lion’s den. The only thing between him and this pack of wolves was Dustin, a kid near the same height as himself.

“I’m honestly a little curious.” Columbo propped up his glasses to direct his gaze at Sticky. “What exactly was thy plan? What wert thou going to do?”

“...I hadn’t gotten that far. I just knew I had to take my chance and follow after you, whatever happened… that and Cheeks convinced me into it.” he lamented, to which Chris threw back his head and laughed.

“How valiant! And utterly idiotic.”

“Speaking of plans, I am wondering myself what yours is, Chris.” Sergei brought up. “What are you doing with this boy here?”

Chris hummed a long hum and bounced his foot. “That is quite the question.”

“You can’t keep him here forever!”

“He needs other boys his age to hang out with.” Tom pondered.

“He could even start his own gang…” Larry mused.

“It’ll never be as cool as us gents though.” They both snickered, and Chris nodded.

“Quite. We’ll have to travel elsewhere, start fresh… Figure it all out from there.”

“You’re really taking him?” Sticky asked. “You’re taking Dustin and, and leaving?”

Chris turned to him, blank. “Yes.”

“You know that’s child abduction, right?”

“Yes. I’m getting familiar with it by now.”

“Uh, Dusty can I talk to you for a sec?”

Dustin nodded, and Sticky lead him out onto the porch.

* * *

It was only the lights from the cottage windows illuminating them now with the rest of the wide wilderness saturated in nightfall. Sticky’s movements were quick and nervous, short puffs of breath visible from his moustache.

“I can still find us a way out of this Dustin, you don’t have to go with these men.” he swallowed. “It...it’ll be okay.”

“I-I, th-think I sh-shhould go with them.”

“...what?”

“B-Brad d-d-doesn’t want me. Why, why w-would I g-go back?”

Caught off guard, Sticky just stared.

“But… is that what you want? Please, if, if they’re forcing you, or anything…”

Dustin shook his head. “M-me and C-Chris t-t-talked about it too, I d-decided.”

“You’re… alright with him looking after you?”

“I-it’s o-okay, Sticky.”

Not long after, the door squeaked and Chris peered out into the dark.

“...Just making sure you weren’t trying anything… risky.” he squinted, having removed his shades to see better.

“You caught me, I was about to hotwire the truck.” Sticky grumbled, to which Chris actually laughed.

“Done talking are we?”

Sticky turned to Dustin again. “Dusty?”

“I-I am.”

“Alright- hold it.” Dustin made his way back inside, but Sticky stopped Columbo at the door, singling him out. “I want to talk to you too.”

Chris’s brow raised. Sticky squared his shoulders and straightened his back to face the other, something more hardened and determined glinting in his eyes. An admirable display.

“Why are you doing this? What sort of deal do you have going here?”

Columbo smiled with a gentle sort of amusement. “You’re tough when you want to be, aren’t you little man?”

“I’m not scared of y- I, I’m not backing down until I have answers.”

“Alright… honestly, there’s no deal. I took the boy to get back at Bradley. We were, how do I put this…”

“You were a couple.”

“...yes. I suppose I became fond of our Dustin in that time. I wish no more harm upon him, no more than he’s already been though.”

It would seem like he’d finished there, if it weren’t for how troubled he looked. “...I don’t know that you’ll understand. When I was his age, I had an uncle I used to stay with. Being able to leave was all I had to look forward to sometimes, I wasn’t the child my parents wanted. When he was gone… I direly needed that freedom back.”

There was a sincerity Sticky never expected in Columbo. “I don’t want to see any poor boy stuck in a place they aren’t wanted.”

“I do understand.” Sticky softened. “I think I could’ve used something like that when I was younger…”

“It will be easier for him to heal somewhere away from old wounds.” Chris explained, then adding “If… if you’d like to stay a little longer to make sure, there’s plenty of room here.”

“This is so strange.” Sticky laughed to himself. “I can’t hang around here too long, I have to go back and look after my dad. That’s what I was thinking before, you know, ‘if these people kill me, I won’t have to go home, so maybe it’ll be for the better’.”

“Ah.”

“Not that it matters. I think Dustin being happy matters more to me.”

“I’ve thought that myself.” Chris smiled sympathetically. “Can I tell you a secret? You have to promise me you won’t tell Dustin, or the gents.”

“...Sure?”

“If I hadn’t met him, I doubt I would be here right now. I’d probably be out there in the wilderness, with a bullet in my head.” Chris made a little hand gesture of a gun, aiming and firing at his own head.

“Jesus. That’s heavy man.”

“Yeah.”

“You like… you want a hug?” Sticky held open his arms, offering.

Chris couldn’t contain another chuckle. “Why not?”

He leaned down to let Sticky wrap his arms around his broad chest and pat his back.

“...You’re right, this is strange.” Columbo commented. “I don’t mind it however.”

They both sat out on the porch, just talking, the cold turning their breaths into fog and making Columbo’s nose even redder than usual, but he didn’t mind.

“I could always kill your father in exchange for your silence.”

“That’s fucked up dude.” Sticky still snickered at the thought.

Chris shrugged.

“What, you haven’t killed a man before have you?”

“Not yet I haven’t.”

“That’s just like you.” Sticky sighed and shook his head. “But still... I think you’ve changed.”

“...really?”

“You’re, I dunno, you never seem that attached or like, committed to much of anything before. I’ve seen you just hanging around places." he reflected. "Talking with you tonight makes me feel like there’s more to you. Like, you’re not just the guy who beat up two of my friends in front of me now.”

Chris snorted. “Funny that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is turning into more of a series than I thought it'd be, I'm considering doing more and having it all tie back into canon time
> 
> I dunno if I'll tac any more onto this, I'll prolly just have there be another story as part of a series if I feel inspired to
> 
> anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed!


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